


Respite

by Ashynarr



Category: Diablo II, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: First Published July 4 2014, Gen, Repost from North American Hurricane, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashynarr/pseuds/Ashynarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though one day they will only be known as heroes, only a step down from gods, for now Alfred and Matthew are mere mortals who ended up in the wrong place at the right time.</p><p>(Takes place during Act 4 of Diablo 2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

It's hot, almost to the point of being overwhelming; not quite enough to burn, but enough to leave one constantly sweltering in one's armor. It's the sort of heat that seeps into ones skin and makes one want to try and remove it to escape the endless discomfort.

Then again, for the demon spawning pit of Hell to be anything else would really sort of fall short of expectations.

The two of them are leaning against a ruined pillar, a rare 'cold' spot inside the inferno. Alfred's swig of one of their water pouches is long and deliberately slow, an attempt to stretch the precious liquid as long as they can manage. Matthew's hand is already ready for when the half-empty container is pressed into his hands, and he brings it to his own lips, not caring how warm it was as it soothed his parched throat.

"How long have we been here?" The paladin asks once the other has finished, the slighter man carefully recapping the flask and resting it in his lap.

"Who knows; weeks, probably." Matthew has always had a better sense of time passing, but in Hell there's no way to tell how fast or slowly time is moving compared to Sanctuary - to home. It's likely just another way for the demons to enjoy their prisoner's suffering.

Alfred's head falls back to gently rest against the pillar, his gaze wandering into the blurry, fire-dark distance. "Do you think we're close yet?"

Unconsciously, the assassin's hand comes to rest on a small side pouch, his fingers twitching near the opening before deliberately pulling away. "I think so; Mephisto's been getting louder."

The paladin turns to his brother, frowning. "Are you sure you don't want me to carry that for a while?"

Matthew sighs. "It's fine, Al, I promise. And besides, we can't risk what even a small amount of corruption might do to your abilities."

"I think I can resist any sort of corruption from him long enough to get it to the Forge. And I don't want-"

The assassin interrupts, having heard similar concerns from the other for nearly his entire life. "I'll be fine; it took years for them to corrupt the last people to hold their soulstones."

Matthew knows, though, that it will never allay Alfred's worry like seeing it destroyed for good will. It is simply part of being both a paladin and an older brother.

The older shakes his head, but does not protest, for which the younger is thankful. An argument here would only make things worse, especially with the Lord of Hatred imprisoned at Matthew's hip. He does, however, briefly grab hold of Matthew's hand and squeeze it, reassuring him and at the same time holding it far from the soulstone's whispered encouragements.

The subject changes to one more familiar. "What do you want to do when all of this is over?"

When the Prime Evils are all slain, their souls shattered for good on the Hellforge and the demons driven out of Sanctuary. When the world returns to peace. When they can return to normal lives.

The two of them, though, cannot go back.

There is simply nothing to go back to - their town, their family, and their heritage all burned to ashes in one horrible night, the two only surviving through sheer luck. They'd had nothing left besides each other, two orphans out of many thanks to the actions of the demons and their followers.

And so they learned to fight, for what else was there to do?

Matthew hums, closing his eyes in thought. "I've heard good things about Westmarsh; I wouldn't mind settling down there, becoming a scholar, perhaps."

"Mmm… settling down sounds nice…" Alfred agrees, though he did not shut his eyes. "I dunno what I'd do, though - maybe join the city guard, if they'll have me."

A brief snort of amusement escapes the assassin before he can stop himself. "The slayer of the Prime Evils, unable to get a job with the city guard? That'll be a sight to see."

Alfred laughs, voice cracking a bit from parching. "It would, wouldn't it."

They lapse into a brief silence.

"...I don't think I want them to know, though." The paladin's hand closes around some of the dusty ground, letting it fall back to its resting place as he watched. "They wouldn't - see us for us if they did."

Matthew rests his hand on his brother's leg. "I know."

They would be icons, symbols of the triumph of humanity over the demon menace. People would adore them and loathe them, and they would never know a moment's rest if that knowledge become common.

But if they were just another two mercenaries looking to start anew, no one would blink twice - at least, if the rumors they'd heard were true. It was the only way either of them would ever truly be able to put their past to rest.

"We could always wander the world, see what it has to offer." Alfred offers.

"I think I've seen enough of the world to last any man a lifetime." Though Matthew cannot deny a part of him, the restless adventurer, finds the idea appealing.

The paladin smiles knowingly. "I guess, but it can't hurt to keep in mind."

Matthew's head slowly comes to rest on his brother's shoulder. "I think that, as long as we're together, anything will be alright in the end."

Alfred sighs quietly, running an ungloved hand through his younger brother's hair. "I think so, too."

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who probably don't know (aka everyone), my first video game was the original Diablo, way back when I was 8. Hence, I have a certain nostalgia for the series, especially Diablo 2, which I feel is far better than what Blizzard has done with Diablo 3. If you have the time, look into the lore and/or game a bit – I promise it's unique and enjoyable!
> 
> Anyways, like I said, my favorite is the second installment, which is where this drabble is inserted into. I can't say it perfectly follows Diablo canon – it IS a Hetalia AU, after all – but at the very least it holds true to the spirit of the lore and story, and provides for a unique fantasy AU which I have a feeling I will be exploring further someday.
> 
> Anyways, happy independence Day, and sorry for not doing something more appropriate, but this is something that's been on my mind for a while.


End file.
